Nothing You Could Ever Do
by granthamfan
Summary: A mother's love knows no bounds. A conversation between Cora and Edith. Set between episodes 5.07 and 5.08.


A/N: This has been on my mind since episode 5.07 aired in the UK. Spoiler alert for those who have yet to see the episode. A million thanks to my wonderful and faithful beta.

The sound of muffled cries beckoned Cora along the bedroom gallery toward her daughter's bedroom. She paused a moment before knocking softly and pushing open the door to Edith's room. She smiled as she observed Edith sitting in a rocking chair that had been brought in from the nursery rocking little Marigold, who was fighting with all her might the sleep that threatened to claim her.

"I can't seem to get her to settle down," Edith said as she noticed her mother standing in the doorway. "Do you suppose she's alright?"

Cora smiled in understanding. She remembered being a new mother, becoming frazzled at the slightest thing when it came to Mary's well-being. Becoming pregnant with Edith so soon after Mary's birth had only exacerbated her feelings of panic; her mother's heart and the constant fluctuation of pregnancy hormones at times conspiring to drive her mad with worry. She approached the chair and placed the back of her hand on Marigold's cheek. "She doesn't feel warm. I think she's still trying to adjust to her new surroundings." Cora noticed that her new granddaughter, though still whimpering softly, eyed her with genuine curiosity. "May I try?"

Edith hesitated for a moment before shifting the toddler in her arms and handing her to Cora. She moved to sit on her bed as Cora settled into the rocking chair, Marigold cradled in her arms. Looking down at her, Cora felt as if she had been transported back to a time some thirty years prior. "Oh, Edith," Cora breathed as she studied her granddaughter's face, "Darling, she looks just as you did at this age." Cora beamed down at the toddler as she began to run her fingers through her hair. It wasn't long before the girl's eyelids began to droop. "Some things never change," Cora smiled.

"What do you mean?" Edith questioned, her tone one of genuine curiosity.

"This always seemed to calm you when you didn't want to go to sleep."

Edith smiled. "I remember. I remember sometimes when I couldn't sleep, I would sneak down the hall to your room. You would always come and sit with me. I would lay my head in your lap, and you would play with my hair until I fell asleep. I miss that."

"So do I," Cora smiled at her daughter. She glanced down at Marigold as she felt her relax in her arms. "She's finally given up," she whispered, chuckling quietly.

"I'll take her back to the nursery." Edith stood from the bed just as her mother stood from the rocking chair.

"Not just yet." Cora walked to the bed and laid Marigold down, placing a pillow on either of her. "She'll be fine there for now. Come here, darling." Cora motioned toward the end of the bed, holding her hand out for Edith to join her. "I'd like to hold my baby for a bit; that is, if you don't mind."

Edith smiled at her mother. "I don't mind." She sat next to Cora, her arms wrapping around her mother's waist as she laid her head on her shoulder. She smiled and relaxed further as she felt her mother's arms wrap around her, and a tender kiss being pressed to her forehead.

"I was afraid you would think you were too old for such things," Cora mused as she gently rocked her daughter back and forth.

"Before Marigold, I probably would have. But, I see now why mothers have such a hard time thinking about their children growing up. I find myself wishing that my daughter would stay small forever. Is that silly?"

"Not at all," Cora said as she tightened her arms around her child. "When I look at you and your sister, I still see you as little girls at times. It's a mixed blessing. You want your children to grow strong; to become mature adults and do wonderful things. But there's always a part of you that wishes that you could turn back the hands of time. As proud as I am of the young women I raised, every now and then, I wish you were still little."

"Do you worry less about your children when they get older?" Edith wondered.

"Heavens, no," Cora laughed. "If anything, you worry that much more." Cora pondered her next words carefully, not wanting to upset her daughter or ruin the moment the two of them were sharing. "Edith?"

"Yes, Mama?"

"Poppet, I don't want to upset you by asking this. But it's been eating away at me, and I can't rest easily again until I know. Darling, why didn't you come to me when you found out you were pregnant?" Cora felt Edith grow tense for a moment. She ran her hand soothingly up and down her daughter's arm. "I'm not going to chew you up."

"I didn't want to embarrass you," Edith spoke, her voice so quiet that Cora almost missed what she said.

"What?" Cora gently extricated Edith's arms from around her waist and leaned slightly away from her, placing her fingers underneath her chin and lifting her head so that she could look at her. "Embarrass me?"

"It may be 1924, Mama, but some things haven't changed all that much. I couldn't have the papers dragging the family name through the mud. I wasn't going to tell anyone at all. I was going to…" Her voice trailed off, uncertainty over how her mother would react making the words stick in her throat.

"You were going to end the pregnancy, weren't you?" Cora asked gently.

"How did you know?" A mixture of panic and shock crossed Edith's features.

Cora grasped Edith's hands in her own. "Your Aunt Rosamund told me; although, she was much more crass about it," Cora replied, rolling her eyes slightly at the remembrance of the conversation.

Edith hung her head in shame. "She tried to talk me out of it. But, at the time, I felt that it was the only thing I could do. She tried to tell me that you and Papa would support me if I decided to keep the baby—"

"She was right about that," Cora interrupted.

"—but, I just couldn't see any other way. I didn't think I could bear the way that you would both look at me. But, I couldn't do it when it came to it." Edith felt her mother's grasp on her hands tighten. "I met Mr. Drewe when I went with Mary and Tom to Yew Tree farm. You remember; when they asked him if he would like to take on the job of looking after the pigs." Cora nodded as Edith continued. "I mentioned to Aunt Rosamund that I felt Mr. Drewe could be trusted, and that I wanted to ask him to take the baby in. She told me it was too risky; that's when she suggested we go to Switzerland."

"I knew there was something odd about that trip, but I didn't want to interfere in your business. But, I had known for some time that something was going on with you."

Edith looked up at her mother, her forehead puckered in confusion. "Why did you never say anything?"

"My dearest one, I asked you several times to tell me what was wrong; you only pushed me further away. I wanted to needle it out of you, but you're a grown woman. The time for my meddling in your life has passed. But I do wish you had come to me, darling."

"I know," Edith whispered. "Then Granny found out, and I had no choice but to go to Switzerland. Oh, Mama, I was so scared," she continued as tears slid down her cheeks. "I wanted you there with me; to help me through it."

Tears came unbidden from Cora's own eyes at her daughter's words. "My darling," she choked, drawing Edith into her embrace once more. "I wish I could have been with you. I know how frightened I was when I had your sister. And, it was something that I had prepared for. Oh, my poor darling." Cora rocked Edith back and forth, hoping to bring convey some semblance of comfort.

"It was awful, Mama. I thought I was dying."

"I remember feeling that way. I didn't think it would ever end," Cora agreed.

"And what made it worse was that I knew that, in the end, I wouldn't be able to keep my baby; no matter how much I wanted to." Edith grew quiet for a moment before continuing. "Then suddenly it was over. And here was this beautiful baby girl. I was hoping that they would take her immediately. I didn't think I could handle seeing her knowing that I couldn't keep her. But…but, they wanted me to nurse her. They felt that it made the baby stronger to be weaned from her real mother. That's why I was in Geneva for so long."

Cora couldn't find the words to say. Sensing this, Edith continued her story. "She was adopted by Mr. and Mrs. Schroeder; a really sweet couple who lived not far from the hospital. Aunt Rosamund and I came back to England. But, I just couldn't stop thinking about her. That's why I went back to the continent after Rose's ball. I asked Mr. Drewe to take her, and everything was working out all right for awhile. But, I found that the more I saw her, the more I wanted to see her. Mrs. Drewe didn't know that I was Marigold's mother, and she decided that she didn't want me around. That was when Granny and Aunt Rosamund came up with the 'brilliant' idea to send her back to Switzerland. But, after finding out about Michael…"

"You could no longer bear to be apart from her," Cora finished her daughter's sentence. "My sweet girl," Cora murmured as she kissed the top of Edith's head. "My darling, look at me. I am not angry with you; not in the least. I am not embarrassed by you. I do wish that you had come to me instead of going to Rosamund, however."

"I know." Edith looked down at her lap. "But, wouldn't you have sent me away?"

"Of course not!" Cora was shocked at the insinuation. "I agree that the situation is not ideal. But, I worry for your sake; not for ours. And, just look at the precious gift you've gained." She glanced behind her at the sleeping form of her youngest granddaughter. "We would have figured out a way through this. Listen to me, Edith." She took her daughter's head in her hands, running her thumbs across her cheekbones to dry her tears. "I am your mother. There is nothing—nothing—that you could ever do that would make me stop loving you, or that would make me want to send you away. You understand that, don't you?"

"Yes," Edith whispered, unable to say anymore. She rested her head against her mother's shoulder once again, relishing the comfort she had always found there; for it was just as her mother had said earlier: something's never change.


End file.
